The Shattered Path

Chapter 6 - The Radiance

The Brotherhood's salute had been earned during that same battle. Each day, when supply wagons had returned to Arnich to reload, they had been asked if the Wall of Light still stood, and the reply had always been the same: "The Wall stands." After the Brotherhood triumphed over their enemies, and many lives had been lost, the salute was adopted to honor their faith and sacrifice.

Almost too quickly, it seemed, the sun neared the western horizon, expanding into a bright orange disc. Aerham's excitement had waned considerably, growing tired of the saddle, but part of him still yearned for more. Traveling at the speed of marching soldiers was slow and the trip was longer than he had expected. But he was in charge of soldiers! For so long, he had dreamed of this day!

Smoke from cooking fires in Arnich slithered into the darkening sky ahead. He had hoped that a large crowd would gather and shower the procession with flower petals and praise, but the town seemed indifferent if not completely oblivious to their presence. That was disappointing, but this was the town closest to the Fortress of Light after all, and they likely saw Brothers every single day.

A bannermen rode to Gendis, leaning over to speak with him. A few moments later, the bannerman rode to Aerham, swinging his horse around to match the casual pace of Aerham's mount. Small dust eddies whirled around the horse's hooves as it slowed and the banner fluttered weakly.

"Uth Garenthil instructs you to set up camp east of town. Establish temporary fortifications; trenches and pickets. Then you are to report to him at the Emerald Lion Inn in town." The young bannerman seemed to smirk as he spit the words quickly. He did not wait for questions, guiding his horse around and riding away.

Aerham frowned. Uth Garenthil was going to stay at the inn. The Brother had earned the right to a soft bed, having fought so many battles, he reasoned. Though, once Aerham had become a Brother, he would still sleep with the troops in the camp. Soldiers respected a leader who suffered the same hardships and ate the same food. His father had told him to suffer with them when he could, but not to place himself on the same level. A leader must maintain his status as their superior and that's exactly what he would do.

It was foolish, he knew, yet Aerham hoped they might encounter a large group of bandits and have to stop them with force. He knew that it was a silly notion, but he couldn't keep the unrealistic fantasy from rising in his mind. He could see himself receiving cheers from the soldiers as he stood over the corpse of the bandit leader. It was a very silly fantasy, indeed.

The soldiers set up their tents and left the door flaps open to enjoy the cooler night air. They surrounded the large camp with trenches and set wooden spikes pointed outward at a diagonal angle. In the impossible event of an attack, the spikes would deter charging enemies or the enemy soldiers in the rear would push those at the front of the charge into those spikes. Also, defenders with halberds or spears could do very well from behind the spikes. It was good training for the day when they might have to go on a campaign into the Murdered Lands. With one-hundred fifty soldiers and thirty servants working hard, the tents and defenses were erected swiftly. In the center of the camp, the servants used three enormous, iron cauldrons to prepare a beef stew that filled the air with spices and the aroma of beef broth.

Aerham noted that many men had lit their own cooking fires and sat in groups talking. Fires were only acceptable in the harsh winter for warmth, not in the springtime to sit around telling stories. He would let them have their fires on this night, but intended to stop any from being lit on the following night. The rules must be followed. That's why they were rules. His father had preached many times that soldiers should train as they fight. Such was the point.

After overseeing the servants setting up his gear in the Initiate tent, Aerham changed into a fresh tunic. The one he removed had become dingy beneath thick layers of dust and the emblem had become barely visible. He would make a good presentation when he reported to Uth Garenthil. However, he considered saving the soiled tunic and not having it cleaned. It was the tunic he had worn on his first day as a leader. It felt like everything was finally coming together for him. Everything he had worked so hard to achieve.